


And seeing the shape of your name still spells out pain

by ultrafreakyfangirl



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: AU, F/M, Fanfiction, addek, pre-grey's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28380189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultrafreakyfangirl/pseuds/ultrafreakyfangirl
Summary: This is sort of an AU, sort of not, in that Addison and Derek's relationship and marriage is canon, but AU in that it was never explicitly written into the show. So, here I am.This is based off of an Addison quote in season 2 where she's talking to Derek and she says "Christmas, Derek. We love Christmas...at least we used to." And I realize she meant it in a different way when she said it in the timeline of the show but that has nothing to do with this fic. It's all AU.*the title is a song lytic and if you can guess the song its from, I may just write more Addek. I'll be writing more anyways, who's kidding who here.I hope you like it! It might be a little messy, sorry if there's any typos that I'll agonize over later when I read it over.
Relationships: Addison Montgomery/Derek Shepherd
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	And seeing the shape of your name still spells out pain

_“Christmas, Derek. We love Christmas…”_

_..._

**_Christmas 1992_ **

Addison smiled, a blissful sort of smile, as she closed her eyes and sunk into the couch cushions, taking care not to spill her rum and eggnog that was filled precariously to the brim. She took a sip, let out a relaxed, mildly drunken sigh as a weight crashed subtly down next to her, the weight of a body, her boyfriend’s body. Her beautiful, beautiful, blue eyed, neurosurgeon boyfriend. Oh, she was lucky. So very, very, lucky.

He kissed her once, chaste, prompting her to open her eyes. She did. She leaned in closer to him, urging him on, deepening their kissing with one hand on his chest, the other still clasping the glass with her fingers, nails painted a dark red, the color of the season, and seduction.

“Careful,” he warned her gently, pushing back a little against her and trying to grab hold of her glass. “You’re going to spill.”

She smiled wickedly, teasing, harmless. “I’ll be careful, Dr. Shepherd; _very_ careful. But, what if I were to accidently spill some down your shirt…”

He raised his eyebrows, the look in his eyes so familiar, cocky. As if he had the power to correctly predict her every move _. “Addie…”_

“Oops – “

Addison chuckled. Never would she giggle. Waifish giggling was for the sluts and mistresses of the world, and that she was not. Besides, a giggle would let him know he had the upper hand, and that was less of a balance in their relationship. He challenged her, but she would bite him back. Harder.

She tipped the glass further forward, watching with an easy satisfaction as it spilt down his shirt in a sexy sort of way, slow, soft, as it began to soak into the fabric.

“Guess you should take it off now so I can wash it.”

He laughed. A deep, rumbling laugh that was comforting just the same. It was the same laugh that caused a fire low in her belly, but it also made her blush, and it made her want to scream, that stupid laugh, because every reaction she had to it was so unlike her before. Before Derek. He changed her in so many ways, both big, fundamental ones and in the stupid, insipid way, but she loved him. For and because of it.

“Bullshit. You don’t do laundry.”

“You’re right,” she smirked, pulling his shirt off for him and genuinely smiling when he pushed her hair back behind her ear in a dumb tender way that was ruining the moment. So she had to be kissing him again. And fast. “I don’t.”

The colorful lights from their real as can be tree were twinkling against the glass of their window and that was when she noticed, from the corner of her eye, that she hadn’t closed the curtains, not that she much cared. Not anymore. Her mother would have had a heart attack. Both because of the tacky lights and her daughter’s tawdry decision to have sex with her boyfriend when people could potentially see right through their ground floor window. Oh well.

Because with Derek’s hands all over her, one up her shirt and the other palming her ass, and yes, she said _ass_ because Addison Forbes-Montgomery could say and do whatever the _damn hell_ she wants, she had no hope to care about anything else; because those glorious hands, with those miraculous fingers, currently wandering teasingly in places she dare reference out loud…nothing. There was nothing. Her neurons were firing blanks, sexed-out blanks. And all of it was _amazing._

“Dear god, I love you,” Derek breathed into her hair as they lay naked together on the couch, lewdly pressed against each other. “I love you, _and_ I _fucking love_ rum and eggnog.”

…

**_Christmas 1995_ **

“Addison, you are not wearing that to the Shepherd family Christmas dinner.”

She laughed softly, teasingly, leaving him in lurch. He had no idea what she was thinking and frankly, it scared him, but he would be lying if he didn’t say it turned him on a little bit. Addison Forbes-Montgomery was scary, unpredictable, a woman by nature, and she was _so fucking hot._

That was why when she came out of the shared bedroom of their one bedroom, two bath apartment, he nearly combusted with the force of his urges. The crazy, insane, very primal urge to fuck her. To fuck her until physical exertion has them both a sweaty, sexy, disgusting mess. Thirty minutes before Christmas dinner.

Complete with a stupid Santa hat perched on top of her head, her outfit was black and sparkly, the lacy lattice climbing up both of her legs, twined delicately around her calf muscles, her thighs, oh, those, wonderful, beautiful, thighs and what was between them, underneath a thin piece of black silk...had his head absolutely spinning. As she got closer, he could smell her, and she smelled thickly of _Yves St Laurent_ and with a groan he couldn’t hold back, he realized it was him. She smelt _like him._ Fuck.

When she leaned forward and began to generously kiss and suck his neck, her hair tickled his skin, and he remembered right then and there why he’d taken notice of her in that lecture hall in the first place. Then walked right up to her, without hesitation, and started to blatantly flirt with her, right there, in front of one hundred of their closest classmates and their professor. She’s a redhead; redheads are sexy and dangerous, feisty like a devil. They were Derek Shepherd’s one and only weakness. She was his one weakness. Still is. Three years later.

He’d left Mark Sloane in the dust, or maybe not so, because with Derek out of the game, there were more single, naive, fresh-faced med students for him, because to be totally frank here, not many of the other males in their graduating class left much to be desired to the imagination. Fortunately. Except now he has Addison, and _oh man_ , he was crazy to say it, but he was head over heels in love with her. It was hard to remember that now, because, in the non-existent space between them, as she continued to work on his neck, there was so much lust he could _taste_ it.

Derek pushed her backwards and kept pushing her until her ankles caught the edge of the bed and she fell backwards into the throw pillows that she insisted they have on their bed so as to appear classy.

Once, he’d had the nerve to ask her what exactly was so _classy_ about the way they ripped each other’s clothes off before falling drunk with exhaustion and leftover adrenaline against those same pillows; what was so _classy_ , he’d said too, about the shape of her ass imprinted into the fabric for hours afterwards, and she’d laughed, but the throw pillows stayed. Of course.

After it was all said and done – not much said, a lot of it done, she got up on her knees to, probably, give herself leverage to stand, but he couldn’t help it and so he grabbed onto her waist, fingertips indenting her hips, nails scratching at pale skin and nudged her forward with his own knee. He’d only let him do this a handful of times, so he’d consider himself a damn lucky man if it were to happen again, but it _was_ the holidays. _Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal._

“No. Der, I have to shower. Again.”

She crawled out of his grasp, and he felt like it was to tease him, but he was so riled up it probably was something not like that at all.

He was right. She shook her head and pushed his lost little puppy face away from her – he’d only act like that, desperate, sad, vulnerable, for her and only her, but today it didn’t work. He knew it wouldn’t, she was strong-willed, stubborn, and he wouldn’t want her to be anything less.

“We’re going to be late to _your_ parents dinner. Do you really want to piss the one and only Caroline Shepherd off? I think not.”

She answered for him, as she sometimes did, and yeah he would really, terribly mind if that were somebody else talking, anybody else, but he would let Addison Forbes Montgomery speak for him any day of the week. She just… _said things better._

That was how she showed up to only her second official Shepherd Christmas dinner with semi-dry hair pulled back into a ponytail, one sock missing in her boots, and a small pull in her nylons that Caroline couldn’t resist pointing out with a smarmy smirk on her face. They hadn’t exactly pissed her off, but they had done one better. Made passing judgement on Addison that much easier.

And he would have felt bad, if it weren’t the night she’d become Addison Forbes-Montgomery Shepherd, informally. And true to her form, she cut him off near the end of his speech to shout _“yes, oh my god, Derek, yes!”_ that sounded more like an orgasm than accepting a marriage proposal, but he had a feeling it had more to do with making Caroline uncomfortable as payback for all the harsh judgements throughout the night, that she never acknowledged outright. The way she kissed him back after he slid the diamond ring on her finger was just an added bonus. _Caroline – 0 Derek and Addison – 1. 2, for that damn kiss._

_..._

**_Christmas 1996_ **

“Oh my god, Der. Look at this cheesy ornament Nancy got for us.”

She held up the _First Christmas as Mr. and Mrs._ ornament in plain distaste, because it was tacky as hell and it was just like his sister to get them something like that.

Derek came up behind her and took the ornament from her hand, and she couldn’t help leaning into his chest, nearly melting into his touch as he put his other arm around her ribcage. As much as she hated to admit it, the honeymoon phase was a real thing, and with him, her smoking hot up and coming neurosurgeon, it was hard to resist it. And so, she didn’t.

“Well,” he spoke softly to her, kissing her head as he hung the tacky thing on one of the branches. “It is our first Christmas together, like this, _Addison Shepherd_.”

When he said her name like that, her new name, with such bold intention, it was insanely sexy, and insanely difficult to hold back a mewl of desire when his hands slipped subtly underneath the waistband of her pyjama pants, and so, when his fingers touched the lace of her underwear, she didn’t hold anything back, because it was just them, here, together. If they wanted to have newly-married sex on their living room floor, they damn well would.

And they did. Three times over. A new record, he’d boasted on his own behalf a little later, which made her snort in laughter, and made him kiss her harder, because for some ungodly reason he finds her _non-sexy_ inhibitions _sexy._

They burned their first batch of Christmas cookies, and then the second, but it didn’t matter, not to her, because they still had wine – too much of it – and loving on her unbelievably attractive _husband_ would forever trump any amount of sugar she could eat.

And maybe they were just a little bit too drunk, but the orgasms kept coming faster and harder each time, and it was overwhelming, but she never wanted to stop, and neither did he, because they didn’t; not until twelve AM on December 25th finally made its way around, and they were intertwined, skin against skin, and he whispered _Merry Christmas, baby_ into the crook of her shoulder and it took her by surprise, for some stupid reason, until she noticed the clock herself.

...

**_New Years Eve 1998_ **

They were at the hospital tonight. Doing scut in the ER. The both of them ran off their feet on hour 46 and ready to fall face first into bed the second they got home. Whenever _that_ was going to be. The life of an intern, Addison was learning very quickly and without any time to process it all, was a rough one, so she felt lucky to have her husband next to her through it all.

Already a year in, he was seasoned in the ways of this Boston hospital, knew where the closest bathrooms were outside of any of the ORs – because after an eleven hour surgery, the bladder is bound to give; he knew where the best coffee was – it was the little cart just outside of the hospital; knew where the best places to sleep that weren’t on-call rooms, though he’d been known to swindle a few attendings in his day – speaks to how he got her, because before she entered medical school she’d sworn of men entirely, deemed them a distraction, and Derek Shepherd was certainly that, but he was other things, too. Charming was only half of it. He knew things, many things, and right in this second, she was extremely thankful that he knew how she took her coffee. So thankful that she almost considered getting on her knees right then and there in the ER department. Almost. She wasn’t a whore.

“Ugh, babe, thank you. You are seriously my favorite person in the world right now,” she nearly moaned as she took a scalding sip of the coffee – with only just a splash of milk.

The fact that she preferred black coffee, let alone was able to stomach it, had amazed him at first, and she knew that because he’d told her so. _“Most women drink that frou-frou crap like non-fat lattes with an extra pump of hazelnut. But not you.”_ She’d taken a sip of her coffee, and just like she did here and now, nearly held back a satisfied moan. _“Not me_.” She’d stated matter-of-factly, expertly re-doing her ponytail with one hand and two fingers from the other, while still holding that coffee. He’d offered to take it for her, but it had clearly fallen on deaf ears, because for the first time in his life, Derek Shepherd had been reduced to barely speaking. And she’d loved it. She’d loved what power she seemed to hold over this man with only speaking a literal two words to him.

She loved it so much, she married him three years later. And she hasn’t looked back since. She was still so, sickeningly in love with him, just like he was, her. And honestly, they loved to show it off. It made the rest of their intern class want to kill them, but it was totally worth it.

He nuzzled her neck as if to prove her point. “Just right now?” he asked her, and she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch as he furthered his ministrations.

“No,” she breathed out, proving it a struggle to finish her thought with his mouth exploring the fleshy part of her neck like that. “You’ve been my favorite person every single day for the last five years, Derek Christopher Shepherd.”

And sure, she may have said that in part because Mark was now standing there with another girl from their class, Victoria, dark haired and leggy, probably his newest victim, but there was no less truth to the words.

“Okay, gross.” Mark fake gagged, just as she both expected and sort of maybe wanted him to. “And what did we say about the use of disgusting pet names and dramatic displays of affection in the workplace, hm? It makes us normal, unmarried people uncomfortable.”

“You don’t want to get married?” Victoria asked him, imploring him with her equally dark eyes. “Ever?”

Now, Addison might bee wrong, but she swore they’ve only been what Victoria would call _‘dating’_ and Mark would call _‘anything but that’_ for a couple weeks.

“Oh, no, Vic, I _do_. Don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours.”

Wow, Addison thought, the sex must be incredible. She snickered to herself.

“It’s just – we’re only twenty-five. Normal people don’t get married at twenty-five.”

Actually, that’s exactly what normal people do, Addison couldn’t resist thinking, and she could tell that Derek was grinding his teeth to stop himself from saying the thought out loud. She smiled at him. He smiled back. _Yeah, normal people get married at twenty-five._ Twenty-four in her case, and she certainly didn’t believe she would be _that_ girl, but she was, and her ten-year reunion was going to be really fun because of it.

Two twenty-something idiots with third degree burns talking obnoxiously and obviously drunk, disrupted their conversation, and at 10:40 PM Addison was told to stitch up the one guys arms, while Derek got picked to do a skin graft with one of the attendings. Usually a resident’s job, but it didn’t surprise her. Sure, they got him at the hospital, but she got him at home. Which is, in an hour and twenty minutes – the irony was not lost on her – where they would finally be.

At 12:00:00 on January 1st, 1999, Derek kissed her temple as he passed her to get to the cart of tools for a fresh scalpel and whispered _happy new year, pretty girl_ and she laughed, which roused a few suspicious looks from those patients in the ER, but it had been a while since she’s heard that, and by the look he was giving her, it was like he understood why she was laughing. But he didn’t, not really. She was so deliriously tired, that was true, but she was also so _deliriously afraid._

At 12:05:25 on January 1st, 1999, she was in the staff bathroom in the ER unit, because she couldn’t wait, staring at a drugstore pregnancy test in the palm of her hand, scrutinizing those three, little, dots. They were taunting her, and it was unfair. Everything she had been experiencing pointed to pregnancy. Sickness, mood swings, late period, they were all signs.

So, when the test confirmed that she was in fact not pregnant she felt relived, sickeningly _relieved._ Sure, they’d been married long enough, and it would make sense for any other couple, any other couple not going through medical school together, facing internship and then residency, someday after that, a fellowship, and beyond. Babies were not on their radar right now. And as far as she was concerned, they wouldn’t be, not for a long time yet.

And so, she decided not to tell him; he wouldn’t have a say in her decision, then. It made everything easier on her. For now. She had no idea that nothing about this would be _easy_ at all.

...

**_Christmas 2003_ **

“Addie?”

She couldn’t answer him. Even if she had the energy to move her mouth, words wouldn’t come. And she didn’t want him to hear her cry. Not right now. Not on Christmas.

“Addison, are you alright in there? We gotta go, babe. My mom will be livid if we’re late.”

 _I know!_ She wanted to scream at him. Which wasn’t fair. _Do you think Caroline Shepherd and your insipid, annoying sisters_ – except Amelia, she loved Amelia, _are really what I’m worried about!?_ He wasn’t the one she was angry at. It was the situation. It was herself. But she yelled at him anyways.

“ _Derek!_ I know, okay!? I know that your mom has to start eating at exactly six o’clock so that we can be done by 7 and watching _It’s A Wonderful Life_ by 7:30. I get it, I understand it, I’ve spent the past three Christmases with your family because I can’t stand to be around mine because it would kill any of them to show a shred of human emotion, okay!?”

She roughly pulled up her underwear, deliberately ignoring the dark blood stain and tugged her dress down, nearly ripping it in the process. Not that she even cared. She didn’t care about anything right now. She just prayed to anyone that would listen – unsure if she believed in any sort of higher power after this and hoped that the cramps would go away on their own. All she wanted to do right now was curl up in a hot bath and cry her eyes out, because she didn’t deserve this. _They_ didn’t deserve this. Nobody damn well deserved to feel this happening to them – the bleeding, the severe cramping, the knowledge that the life she pictured for herself, for her and Derek, was just _gone._

Addison opened the door inch by inch, and then she felt it being pried from her grasp and pulled open completely, without pause, and there she was, face to face with her husband; looking into his piercing blue eyes, so compassionate, so gentle, she was struck with the wish she had for their baby to have those same eyes, and when she thought about that, she thought about how this pregnancy had changed her, how it made her attuned to herself in ways she could never dream to have been before, and how its loss made her realize just how desperate she really was to be a mother.

Two months. She had time to adjust to being pregnant, to feel her baby kick – as much as it was theirs, it was inside _her,_ developing, growing…or so she’d thought. It happened so fast. And although it was a stupid thought, she wished now that she’d just held her pee, held it for as long as she could stand, because then maybe she could’ve held off the inevitability for at least a little while longer. At least until tomorrow.

“ _Oh…_ pretty girl, what’s wrong?”

Derek took her into his arms without the pause of a single breath, and honestly, she wasn’t sure if she could even manage to breathe – it took too much out of her. She didn’t have anymore to give. Especially not to herself. She hated herself right now. She hates herself more than she’s ever hated anybody. Even her mother. And once upon a time she’s hated that woman enough to say some pretty heinous things.

He shouldn’t be calling her that right now. She didn’t deserve it. She doesn’t deserve any of it. Much less for her husband to be so damn sweet to her.

She really, really didn’t want to tell him now.

“I – I – “

She snivelled, sighing as he began to run his fingers through her hair and just held her, the way he did right before their intern exam, and any other times she’d felt especially panicked and anxious during med school. He’d stop whatever he was doing and just take her in his arms, right there. _“Everything Is going to be okay, pretty girl.”_

She never thought she’d suit a nickname like that. _Pretty girl_. She wasn’t _that_. She was sharp-featured and sarcastic with natural auburn hair. She didn’t have the freckles, or the lilting little laugh, the waves in her hair, she wasn’t cutesy, she didn’t wear berets, flower necklaces or converse shoes. Her hair was pin-straight unless she curled it, she wore lipstick, eyeshadow, and stiletto heels (when she wasn’t in the hospital) and to top it off, she wore reading glasses when she studied. She didn’t match one certain image, most certainly the girl without a backbone, but somehow she knew Derek’s image of _pretty girl_ was different. His pretty girl image was her and only her, and what’s better is that he has her believing that she is.

“Sh…pretty girl, tell me what’s wrong. What’s bothering you?”

He was asking her now, in that soft, charming voice of his and it nearly made her start to wail. She didn’t want him to hurt like she was hurting, right now.

“Der…” She trailed off wimpish and scared. She couldn’t do it. She felt like a child.

“Addie…” he replied, still with his fingers in her hair, but then he began to rock them side by side and he gently kissed the side of her head. “I need to know what’s on your mind. Let me help you.”

“Derek you don’t – you can’t _help me_ , okay?”

She knew she had to tell him eventually, and evading it was just going to frustrate him. As much as he never likes to admit it, Derek has a bit of a hero complex, and while it was something that made her fall in love with him, right now it was something that was making her hate him. He couldn’t fix this.

“Addison Adrianne Shepherd,” he was trying to be stern, but she could hear the hurt and worry in his voice.

“Derek. Stop. Just _stop_!”

She hadn’t realized at first, but now she heard it. The screaming. She was screaming. And he was telling her that she needed to be quiet, needed to breathe, _breathe Addison,_ before she has a panic attack.

He’d been surprised to learn that she suffered from anxiety as a child, and that it carried over to her adulthood as well, but funnily enough, not as bad. Any good therapist would probably say it’s because she’d gotten out from under Bizzy’s thumb. But it appeared now in highly stressful and emotional situations and it’s a wonder why she’d become a doctor, but when the situation didn’t directly involve her, she was fine. 

Derek had coached her through a few work-related panic attacks after she’d lost patients, and ones from personal reasons as well, so by now he’s a professional. It’s the most vulnerable part of her, and the fact that he cannot only handle it, but is the first one there, she knows she’s made the right decision in loving him. And ultimately, it’s this revelation that makes her break, that makes her tell him what’s going on.

She tells him. And he’s supportive and loving and every other thing that’s supposed to make her feel better but none of it does. And now, they still have to go to Christmas dinner at the Shepherd house. She doesn’t let him cancel. Caroline would be pissed. And she doesn’t yet have the strength to tell anybody else. She can sense he doesn’t either. They need to mourn together. Just the two of them.

And that’s what they do.

...

**_Christmas 2004_ **

She thought the bad luck was over. She thought it was done. _No more,_ she remembered begging, staring at the ceiling the night after the doctor confirmed her phantom pregnancy just shy of three months after their miscarriage. _Please, no more._

And then there was more. If she had any doubts before, she definetly didn’t believe in a god now. Addison had found out she was pregnant back in July, so this one hurt. It really, really, hurt. Five months this time. A new record, she thought bitterly but she couldn’t help her tears; the tears that soon turned into full fledged cries, and there she was, panties around her ankles, a splash of tonic water spilt on her dress, her hair a mess, body wracked with cramping, losing her ever loving shit in the Shepherd’s guest bedroom ensuite.

Frankly, it was embarrassing. The fact that she’d been with Derek for a total of thirteen years didn’t make it less so. Social elitism was engrained in her, it seemed, had been since she was a child, so this was no surprise. She was having a god damn miscarriage during fucking Christmas dinner and her first thought was that she should probably be embarrassed of her behavior. That was a lot to unpack. But sure, since she’s not tied up, other than the obvious, now is a great time to do that.

A sharp, stabbing pain that felt like it came out of nowhere made her cry out and drop to her knees on the tile. Sure, the house was big, but it would be a miracle if nobody heard her. She could go through it alone, almost would rather, so she wouldn’t have to explain what was happening, but she knew that Derek would hate the thought, and she knew that she would have to tell him.

“Addie? Addie is that you in there? Are you okay?”

And ruin yet another Christmas. She was beginning to feel something different for the holiday these days. It was now the anniversary of not one, but two miscarriages, and growing up it definetly associated more bad memories than good, but before, with him, Christmas had started to feel like Christmas should. And it had been great. Before. They had tried to put the love back in it once December approached this year, but it fell flat, and now, she couldn’t imagine loving another Christmas again.

“Addison, please talk to me. I heard you before. It sounds like you’re hurt. Are you hurt? Can I come in?”

Amelia’s voice was soft, scared, but she was trying to conceal it. She was growing up so much, and sure, she’d scared them for awhile, but it seemed like she was turning a corner. Amelia was always the nicest, aside from Derek, she didn’t have that status about her that her family did, and she had a softly spoken vulnerability underneath all the spunk that she’d unveil once you got to know her. It was sweet. She was sweet; sweet little Amy, and Addison loved her, honestly and truly.

“Amy…I’m – I – uh – “

She wasn’t ready to say it, so wordlessly, she opened the door and the look on Amelia’s plump, girlish face without all the makeup – she was gaining the weight back, Addison was thankful to see, she looked healthier, pretty, and the thought of both of those things, the things her baby would never be, the weight of them made her collapse forward into Amelia’s waiting arms. It seemed like somehow she just knew that Addison would need to be caught. It was an intuition that she envied, and was especially thankful for, right now.

“It’s happening again Amy _…_ ” she sniffed, gripping tightly onto the sleeves of her shirt, like a little girl clinging to her mother. Begging to be solaced.

Amelia came through, stroking her hair and cooing in an effort to sooth. “ _Oh, Addie_ …what’s happening?”

She sniffed again, building up the courage it took to say it out loud, to acknowledge its truth and power to absolutely shatter her sense of self. Her sense of womanhood. Her sense of being a wife, a mother, her sense of attachment, of being able to love someone so strongly even though she hasn’t met them.

“I’m having a miscarriage.”

“Holy _shit,_ ” Amelia murmured.

She was looking incredibly frightened now, though for her well being or of the thought of the actual process, it was unclear. She’s grown up around an entire family of doctors. She knows how this works.

“Yeah,” Addison deadpanned. “Holy shit.”

Amelia sprung into action, sitting up on her knees and grabbed both of her hands. She met her eyes.

“Do you need me to go get Derek? You know what, dumb question. He’s your husband and the father…” Amelia cleared her throat. “Um – yes. He needs to be here. I’m going to get him right now, okay Addie? Okay?”

All she could do was nod weakly and she felt a pair of lips on the crown of her head and a palm caressing her cheek before both sensations were gone and the only thing she could hear was the ringing in her ears and her breathing, heavy, and wracked with grief in the silence of Amelia’s wake.

In the next few seconds she could hear footsteps pounding up the stairs and her name being called over and over. Derek.

How was she supposed to do this? How in the hell was she supposed to tell her lovely, devoted husband that she’s responsible for the loss of their second baby? The loss of their daughter. Her _death_. _Clarissa’s_ death. That was going to be her name. _Clarissa Evangeline Shepherd._ She couldn’t fight the feeling that finding out her gender and naming her was a mistake. That it somehow pushed this to happen. They should have waited.

He pushed open the bathroom door and fell to his knees and scooped her up into her into his arms, like she was a small child, all in one full swoop. She buried his face in her chest and she felt him sniffle into her hair as they cried together.

She should have forced him to wait. But she loved him too much. She still did. She just hoped he still loved her.

It was like he read her mind, how he has the power to do that, she’ll never understand. And like much else about him, she’s so, incredibly thankful for it.

“I love you, Addison. _So, so_ , _much,_ pretty girl. This is not your fault okay? It will never, ever be your fault. You _have_ to understand that.”

Addison breathed out, then in, feeling drunk off of his cologne and the faint mixture of pine needles and clove. The holidays.

“I understand. I do.”

She didn’t, and she thought that she probably never would, but letting him believe that she does, even for just a little while so that they could get through Christmas, it wasn’t a crime.

…

_“…or at least we used to.”_

…


End file.
